What remains

House of Heart

the early morning tide,
a sunrise burned into the
sky… fire.
A breaking,  not  waves or light,
something inside.
The wing beat of sea gulls
scatter across the sky,
regathering they pass by again.
You crumble like dry leaves
in the palm of my hand,
surrender your last sigh and
like driftwood slip away.

art by Rick Loggia

View original post

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s